The Snow Just Keeps on Coming

I had intended to write on the blog again last night so I was writing entries under the correct dates, but Tim led me astray and after a couple of beers there was no way I was going to be able to write anything so I will make it my challenge to get up to date tonight.

Yesterday was a brilliant days skiing once we made it up the slopes. The day starting with a 20 minute rest in the Gondola which half way up decided it didn't want to go any further. Left there swinging to and fro, the snow was coming down thick, yet nervous conversation soon ensued amongst the occupants of our car. A couple of the guys were snow patrols (not the band of course) and over their radio we were treated to a 10 minute skit involving a snow boarder (no surprise) who had managed to drop their board from the ski lift and the resultant search for it in low visibility. One guy questioned why she had become detached from the board in the first place. Apparently the other boarder had gone straight into a tree - of course there is only ever one winner in such fights - the tree, and so had taken it off to comfort her friend with the resulting dislocated shoulder.When we finally got off the Gondola it was like a winter wonderland - trees covered in snow and Santa's sleigh bells ringing. Ok not quite but I could imagine it. Tim tried to give me some skiing lessons and did pretty well until he took me down a run where I could only see a few metres ahead of me, at which point it became a survival exercise. Luckily I could no longer see the five year olds flying past me nor Tim a mile ahead so I was happy in my ignorant bliss!

The day continued in pretty much the same vain. One minute we could see, the next we couldn't.

Eventually we made it to the bottom which involved attempting to ski in slush at the bottom of the slope. All I could think about was how much nicer slush is when presented to you dyed blue and in a plastic cup...

Tim had decided that for the third time since being here he would change his boots - honestly I thought women were supposed to be the indecisive ones. So boots changed we had a few cleansing ales then headed for pizza and a film.

I feel I should end today's entry with one last plea - would someone please send Tim an email? Every time I open up to 10 emails his pride is slowly dented that little bit more. It doesn't matter to him that 9 out of 10 of mine are from the likes of Nectar club card. I don't want to have to add him to some trivial mailing list to sort this out.